


a picture of love, that's this house

by theprincessed



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Implied Sexual Content, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 17:46:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5636137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprincessed/pseuds/theprincessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They stopped in front of a small desk and door, a receptionist typing quickly on a keyboard that had seen better days.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Hello,” Louis grinned, “We're here to take home our baby.”</i>
</p><p>A look at Harry and Louis as they start a family. (Non-AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	a picture of love, that's this house

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote kid!fic. Hopefully the structure of it isn't too confusing.
> 
> Harry and Louis are probably married in this (I'm easy), but they've kept their own names because I couldn't make a decision on the surname thing, especially when the kids appeared. *shrug*
> 
> Sidenote: My grandmother was going to name her firstborn the final name discussed in this fic. This was like 1930s so it would've been a very unusual first name to have, but she had a fall and lost the baby. :( When my dad told me the story, I kinda fell in love with the name and saw the chance to incorporate it here, just in case I never get to use it myself. :') Here's to you, uncle.
> 
> Title from Gary Barlow's _This House_.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy something a little bit different from me x

In a detached house in a London suburb, a father tucks his two young children into bed for the night.

“Daddy, can we have a story, please?” the oldest asks in a sweet voice. She's been learning her pleases and thank yous lately and turned into a proper little polite princess, much to his and his wife's amusement and pride.

“Daddy story? Daddy story! Daddy story!” his youngest suddenly chants, far more exuberantly than a tired two year old should at bedtime. 

He sighs like he's undecided, but it's mostly for show, with the thought that it might calm his youngest and it is more often than not part of their routine anyway. “Okay,” he relents with a grin as they cheer happily, “One story and then it's sleepy time for you. Shall we have one from the shelf?”

His oldest looks at her sibling then back at her father. “Can you tell us the one about Granddad and Grandpa?”

“Again?” his eyebrows raise in surprise before his face turns mischievous, his hand reaching towards his daughter's covered stomach, “And don't you mean Da and Banana?”

She squeals and wriggles as he tickles her gently, her face blushing red immediately. “Noooo!” she cries at the reminder of her learning to talk and the cuteness that ensued when trying to master her grandparents' names. “I know right now! I'm not a baby!”

He stops, feigning shock. “You're not a baby?” She shakes her head, giggles quieting. “Sorry, miss, my mistake. Of course you know their names now, my clever, clever darling.” He kisses her on the forehead then shifts position so that he's sitting next to her, his arm draped over her and her brother. It's tradition for them to snuggle together for story time so that they can both get involved, separating into their rooms (a new adventure for the little one) for sleep. He looks down at his children, so small and perfect. “Now, where shall we begin?”

“At the start?” his daughter asks, eyes twinkling the tell that she knows what she's doing.

“Go! Go! Go! Daddy!” her brother chants some more, making their father chuckle.

“Okay, okay, I'll start at the beginning but we won't have time for the whole story.”

His daughter accepts, leaning against his chest. He closes his eyes, opens his mouth and tells the same story they've already heard a hundred times. It's everybody's favourite.

+++

Today was the day. The day they were officially becoming parents.

Whilst there might not have been a mad dash to a hospital, Louis and Harry were still frantically anxious to drive to the place they'd spent the past many months visiting for one particular reason only. On their arrival, Harry had barely got his Range Rover into a parking space before Louis was opening the door and excitedly rolling out, vibrating with energy.

“Louis, calm down,” he laughed, following him to the entrance a few steps behind.

“We can't waste anymore time!” he exclaimed, grabbing Harry's hand.

They stopped in front of a small desk and door, a receptionist typing quickly on a keyboard that had seen better days.

“Hello,” Louis grinned, “We're here to take home our baby.”

-

After a last meeting in the office with their adoption case worker, Mrs Winkleperry, she finally led Louis and Harry to where they would literally pick up the very first addition to their family. Although Louis had referred to him as a baby, the little boy who had stolen their hearts was a one year old named Leo.

Louis had casually mentioned throughout his years with Harry that he had always dreamed of having a son. The feeling was strongest before Ernest had come along, a home life lived with a plethora of women he adored made him fantasise about the difference and whilst he knew now that deep down there wasn't really any to speak of, welcoming Leo into their lives was the hugest blessing. He had jokingly said that he'd love to name his future son Lucas, a hangover from a teenage obsession with One Tree Hill, but Leo wasn't a newborn and already had a name. However, the second he saw him, Louis knew that names didn't matter. Leo wanted and deserved love like any other child and he and Harry had a lot of love to give. After jumping through so many hoops to make sure that they were a perfect fit for him and vice versa, it was time to take him home.

“Hey little lad,” he murmured into Leo's hair, closing his eyes, as the little boy – his _son_ \- had ran into his arms, “Are you ready?”

He felt him nod against his shoulder and carefully got to his feet still holding him, looking up at Harry staring at them. His green eyes were shining and Louis wanted nothing more than to hug him tightly as well, but his arms were full right now and they found a way to laugh about it somewhere through all the high emotion. When Leo turned, Harry dipped his chin and kissed Louis quickly on the mouth, too overcome and needing to do something, even if Louis physically couldn't.

“Come on,” he smiled once Harry had pulled away, suddenly bashful because they were still in the presence of an amused Mrs Winkleberry, “No more faffing about. Let's go home.”

\---

A year on and at two years old, Leo had developed clear interests already and Louis was full of wonder at how quick his true personality had come out. The first year hadn't been a bed of roses, but Louis and Harry and Leo had dealt with every situation together, _like a family_ , and now he was a content little boy with a love for dinosaurs and copious amounts of his favourite fruit - strawberries. That revelation had brought around pouty Harry, sat in front of Leo in the kitchen with rejected banana smeared over his shirt and in his hair, Leo's tiny fists gloriously covered in red juice.

“I'd hate to see the other guy!” Louis crowed, rolling his hands in mock-punches towards his son.

“I am the other guy,” Harry grumbled.

“Oh, H,” Louis giggled and draped his arms over him from behind, “This is like a rite of passage I think. Your first battle.”

His grumpy look softened considerably, leaning over to kiss Leo's forehead. “And hopefully our last.”

His son curiously touched his palm to the spot immediately, transferring strawberry mush onto his happy little face. Louis snorted. “Not likely, babe.”

\---

Louis loved being right.

But not when he was the one in trouble as a result. Technically, Leo was the one who should be and Louis was the adult here, _the parent_. He'd had a fair amount of responsibility when looking after his sisters in his younger years, but this was the first time he couldn't palm off anything to his mum. 

He scratched a hand through his hair, agitated and kinda clueless. “Leo,” he grimaced, caught between a helpless smile and a stern face, as he stared down at his son sitting on the floor of their living room, a lovely, swirly drawing a couple of inches higher in front of him. It was just a shame that this Leo Tomlinson-Styles crayon original had been crafted onto their cream coloured wall. 

Louis had left the room for a second, Leo had been happily scribbling on a thick pad of paper and Louis had made the rookie mistake of thinking he'd be alright. Scrap that, Leo was more than alright, but their house wall wasn't. He'd come back into the room and let out a surprised cry of Leo's name, making the toddler fall down onto his bum in shock and turn wide eyes to his father.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he rushed forward and pulled the unsure child into his arms. Leo had always loved Louis' cuddles. “It's okay, sweetpea, I'm not mad.” He stroked the back of Leo's baby-fine head and contemplated the bright scribbles on the wall. “Your Daddy's just not sure what the fu - ” he caught himself in time, paranoid that a smart boy like Leo would be bound to copy _everything_ , “what the _fudge_ to do about this mess.”

Leo frowned, tapping Louis' cheek. “No mess! Lo! No mess Lo!”

Louis raised an eyebrow, “Hate to tell you, buddy, but your Dad is definitely going to think this is a mess. A lovely mess!” he added, worried that Leo would bring out the eyes and the trembling lip, “But perhaps we should've drawn it on this big bit of paper instead.” An idea suddenly struck him and he sat on the sofa with Leo perched on his knee and snuggled shyly into his chest as he dragged a few supplies onto the coffee table. “In fact, why don't we draw your Dad a nice picture on here? Maybe it'll soften the blow.”

Leo looked up at him, confused. “Blow? Bub? Blow bub?”

Louis knew he was connecting things to yesterday afternoon when they sat in their back garden and Louis had blown bubbles from a cheap plastic tube and Harry had helped Leo catch them with his hands. If it turned out he liked it, they'd probably get a machine.

He smiled at his son, wincing internally. “If only your father was that easy.”

Soon after they completed their picture on paper, Louis had put Leo down for his afternoon nap and had set on scrubbing the wall with...something. Whatever he could find in the cupboard, he supposed. The last major stain he'd had to get rid of was back when he and Harry lived in their first flat and had their infamous New Year's Eve party. He'd given up in the end, resolving to take a stand about their lack of heating if the incident was ever found out.

Of course, when Louis had just put cloth to wall, Harry came home.

“Hey darling,” Harry greeted obliviously as he walked through the hall and clearly towards the living room. Louis smacked his head gently against the ruined wall because Harry was in a great mood, using Louis' favourite petname on him at a time of crisis like this. “I thought about making those – oh my god, what happened?”

Louis shut his eyes then slumped onto the armrest of the sofa, rubber-gloved hands falling by his sides. “I'm the worst fucking father in the world is what happened,” he moaned, feeling suddenly sorry for himself. He needed Harry to fix this, but this was all _his_ fault.

“Lou, don't talk like that,” he admonished quickly in a surprisingly gentle voice. Louis felt him coming closer and opened his eyes at the same time as he opened his legs, Harry slotting wordlessly into the space. He tilted Louis' face up with big palms to his jaw. “You're the best father ever,”

“...Well, that's a bit much,” he mumbled self-consciously, pursing his lips because he really needed Harry to kiss him right now.

Harry chuckled, chastely pushing their mouths together for a second. “Just tell me what happened and I promise we can fix it.”

Like music to his ears, Louis sighed. “Leo was sitting on the floor, drawing on paper and I just went out to the kitchen for second, I swear it was only one second, and then when I came back, Leo was standing here and the wall was like that.”

Harry studied the large squiggle with a raised eyebrow. “The kid works fast.”

“That's what I thought!” Louis cried then groaned, “Oh god, my mum always said it only takes one second!”

“Clearly.” Harry snorted. He tilted his head before adding, “Is it weird that I'm a bit...impressed?”

“Impressed? I thought you'd be livid!”

Harry wrapped an arm around Louis' shoulders and pulled him into his broad, warm chest. “I seem to remember someone not so long ago telling me that my first battle would not likely be my last...”

Although the feeling of failure was still crawling over Louis' skin, he still managed to preen a little bit at the hidden compliment. 

He did love being right.

(In the end, they'd washed Leo's artwork away with an astonishing sponge product Harry had seen advertised on TV and Louis had never been more grateful for his weird little habit of watching the shopping channels whenever he couldn't sleep. Harry had predictably loved the paper drawing Louis presented to him once they sat down.)

+++

“Oh, he was naughty!” the daughter scolds gleefully, opening her eyes briefly to grin then rubbing her cheek on her father's jumper.

“Yes,” he laughs, “I suppose it was naughty of him, but he didn't know at the time. He was only a little boy, sweetpea, just like your baby brother. Besides, that skill came in handy eventually, didn't it?”

She murmurs sleepily in agreement.

+++

The fifth year of Leo's life came within what felt like a blink of an eye to Louis and Harry. He'd been steadily attending a local nursery a few years previously, the moment they felt he was settled in enough at home and needed social interaction outside his parents and their families. Now it was time for the big move – to the reception class at _school_. As he and Harry had driven their little man to his first day in school, the occasion felt too overwhelming for Louis and he refused to get out of the car.

“Lou, come on,” Harry half laughed, clutching Leo's hand and his specially bought Spiderman rucksack. He was Leo's favourite superhero and Louis hadn't even had to encourage it. It made his heart ache so wonderfully. 

From a continuing interest in dinosaurs, their little Leo was also naturally funny and enthusiastic about everything, falling into whatever with fearless gusto...as long as things were done, in his mind, the right way. Leo's way. Louis knew in that moment that he was being just as stubborn, but he was simply afraid and trying not to show it. What if he got out of the car and burst into tears? Nobody needed to see his cry face. It was already documented for the whole world to read thanks to the lads that he had a particular expression that gave him away and he didn't need people pointing and laughing (okay, irrational) at him for it.

“Louis, baby, look at me,” Harry said in a firmer voice, “Look at our son. Look, he's raring to go,”

Louis looked out the open car door of the driver's side and Leo's gaze really was elsewhere and Harry's arm was outstretched more and more every second he stood around doing nothing. Leo wanted to _go see_. He wanted to go. He was a big boy going to school and that excited him. 

Louis put his hand on the door handle and climbed out to join them. Harry kissed him on the forehead, something he always affectionately did for both his boys.

“He'll be fine,” he squeezed Louis' neck, “I mean, he is a Styles-Tomlinson. The first of his kind, the original, our boy. Who could be better than that to tackle this challenge head on?”

“Alright, stop it,” Louis finally giggled, “Let's see him off on his adventure.”

“That's the spirit!”

As normal for most kids starting a new chapter in their life, Leo had a wobble once they arrived at the school gates, but it was nothing a double whammy of a cuddle from his dads and a welcoming word from his teacher couldn't fix and within minutes, they were exiting Leo's classroom with a final wave goodbye. As they got into their car to drive home, Louis frowned as Harry insisted on leaning over and helping him with his seatbelt before he moved his mouth to Louis' ear.

“By the way,” he whispered, even though they were alone (no child in the backseat, oh god), “I've got a surprise for you at home.”

“What? Really? What is it?”

“Patience is a virtue, Loubear,” Harry mocked, cackling when Louis scowled because he knew how much he hated that fucking nickname and all permutations. “We're supposed to be teaching our son that.”

Louis refrained from moodily pointing out that he wasn't with them right now (gulp) because although Harry seemed the picture of casualness, a reminder like that was probably below the belt. Louis had been a stubborn wreck so Harry had probably kept all his feelings inside. He resolved to make him talk when they got home.

-

Never mind Harry talking, _Louis_ couldn't talk.

The surprise that Harry had alluded to in the car felt and looked like something straight out of a dream. With black-out blinds temporarily covering the windows, Harry's hand had transformed their spacious bathroom into a candle-lit fantasy world. The tub was filled to the brim with bubbles and a different kind of bubbly sat in their rose gold ice bucket right beside it. Soft, calming acoustic music played slowly in the background and Louis' knees went weak. It wasn't the fact that Harry hadn't done anything as romantic as this before, it was that he had and all the memories over the years that Louis had were rushing to the surface.

“You're such a sap,” he sighed, reaching backwards where Harry stood proudly behind him to smudge a grateful kiss to his cheek.

“You might not be saying that in a minute,” he chuckled what Louis liked to call his Sexy Laugh, deep and knowing and angling to get what he wanted.

Louis gasped, feigning scandal, “Mr Styles! You know I'm not one much for baths and you are, so...did you do this for _yourself_?”

“Nice guess, but no.” he felt Harry's strong arms wrap around his torso and his face nuzzle into his neck, “It's for us, of course. Both of us.”

“But Mr Styles!” he continued, having too much fun with his usual dramatics, “It's the middle of the day and we've just dropped our only son off for his first day at school.”

“That's precisely why we should make the most of things, baby,”

“But - ”

“Lou - ”

“I mean, really - ”

“Louis!” he exclaimed, giggling, “Get your bloody gorgeous arse into that bath right now.”

Eventually, he did as he was told, feeling Harry's gaze all over him as he undressed and sunk down into the bath and waited for his boy to join him. Harry eased in behind him moments later with a satisfied sigh, grabbing the opened champagne and offering the whole bottle to Louis whilst still holding onto the base. Wondering what he was up to but loving the reappearance of Harry's naughtier side, he chose not to make a quip about the lack of glasses and took a healthy sip that he tried to then pull away from, if only Harry hadn't kept the bottle tipped down. Champagne dropped into the bath and down Louis' damp torso as Harry made a show of trying to get the bottle under control, depositing it back into the ice bucket with a flourish.

He nipped at Louis' earlobe. “Remind me to lick it off you,”

“I've got bubbles up to my armpits, I'll taste like rank soap. Expensive soap, but rank anyway.” 

“Later,” he stressed, “Remind me _later_. Gonna get you so messy, gonna taste you.”

Louis reached for the back of Harry's head, wetting his long curls slightly – satisfyingly grown out again after cutting so much of them off for charity before they had Leo - and kissed him hard on the mouth. He felt Harry's hands slide up his thighs and divide between taking hold of his cock and easing further behind his balls. He twisted around, water sloshing everywhere, and settled over Harry's lap, body suddenly very interested in being seduced.

-

Harry and Louis broke apart from both their lips and their bodies, panting hard for breath as they fell gracelessly onto their backs. Their skin was sticky with everything imaginable and then some, but Louis couldn't resist turning onto his side and bringing Harry with him for yet another kiss. He'd never get bored of kissing him. From the bath to the bed was hardly the wildest encounter they'd ever had, but it had been a long time coming and so very worth it, especially with how tender, gentle Harry immediately followed his filthy alter ego.

“Do you feel better?”

Louis saw his opportunity and took it. “Do you?”

“What d'you mean?” Harry frowned, but Louis knew him too well. If he answered that quick it was a denial.

“You were just as freaked out by this morning as I was. Admit it.”

He sighed and dragged Louis on top of him, everything aligned from face to toes. Louis loved the feel of his bare skin pressed against his. “Of course I was, Lou.”

“Why did I have to be the idiot then?”

“One of us had to. We'd have been useless for Leo if the two of us had given in,” 

“Ugh, you're amazing.”

Louis studied his face, how even through the angles that had grown from puberty and the years that followed, he still had such boyish charm and magnetism. Now that their sex life had been restored with a bang, he couldn't get enough and he pushed his cheek against Harry's dusting of stubble, feeling them both react accordingly.

“Now you know how I feel,” he joked, kissing Louis' smooth jaw borne from shaving that morning.

“Feeling's mutual,” he gasped, rutting against Harry's thigh as he pulled Louis to grind against him by his arse. “And we've definitely – we've discussed it.” They groaned their I love you's amidst deeper kissing and things were just getting interesting before Louis glanced at the clock besides their bed. “Shit! We're gonna be late!”

“Huh?”

“God, you're bloody rubbish after you've come,” he huffed before explaining himself, “We've spent the whole afternoon fucking like rabbits and nearly forgotten to pick up our son from school. Get. Your clothes on.”

Harry swore and promptly swung into action.

(Of course, Leo was blissfully unaware of how fine they managed to cut it in getting to the school on time and definitely didn't know what they had been up to in the meantime, even if they looked a bit flushed and dishevelled.)

\---

By the time Leo was fast approaching eight, their relationship hit a rough patch. They'd obviously had plenty to deal with before, but there was an added fear too. Although they had been together longer than their son had been alive, this felt like the dreaded seven year itch, the seventh year of being a trio. Sex and intimacy had almost dried up again for Louis and Harry because, whilst it would technically be easier to do something without a toddler to take care of, the hard part was now finding the _time_. Leo was big on extra curricular activities and took a fair amount of organising, between football and orchestra practice (to learn the cornet) and keeping up his talent of drawing.

Like any stressed couple, Louis and Harry's bickering started to get a little less like friendly banter and it all came to a head just days before they were to throw Leo a birthday party at home. They'd always gone out and had fun elsewhere every birthday before, but when they'd asked Leo what he wanted for his eighth, he confessed that a bog standard party in his home and inviting all his friends round was just the ticket. Louis had suggested getting a company in to cut down on the stress of making it all perfect for their boy (something Harry would see with hindsight), but Harry had disagreed, feeling the need to give his son exactly what he wanted. Whilst the circus around them may have dramatically halved since welcoming Leo into their world, they were still known and in the public eye and if his child wanted something simple then he was going to have it.

“Lou, you've got to remember to pick up the cake and the plates and cutlery, okay?” Harry told him over the phone, buried in cooking at home as Louis ran errands across the city.

“Babe, trust me, I've got it all under control,” he laughed, incredulous. “I won't forget the cake.”

“Or the cutlery,”

 _Chill!_ “Or the cutlery.” he replied dutifully because now that Leo wasn't a cute toddler anymore, Harry's perfectionist ways (influenced by Louis' own) had reared their head again. It was less about Leo being perfect from impossible standards and more about _Harry_ being a perfect parent, just like the banana feeding incident all those years ago. Louis thought he was ridiculous, but fondly supported him when he quickly realised that this was one thing Harry wasn't letting go. He stopped in the street for a moment and dropped his voice, coaxing. “Hey, listen. How do you fancy a massage when I get home? I'm pretty sure your back's been playing up, yeah?” He heard Harry breathing on the line. “Maybe even...a naked massage.”

“Uh...” There was a pause and then a beeping in the background, “Shit! Baby, I've gotta go, the shepherd's pie is burning!” (Highly unlikely.) “Cake and cutlery!”

“Yes! Go! Love you!”

Louis ended the call, smiling and shaking his head. This was going to be the best party an eight year old could ask for.

-

Maybe not.

“Louis, where's the cake?”

He grinned, pulling out a white box from a big plastic bag. He'd been sure to rest it on top so it didn't get squashed. “Ta-da!”

“Oh thank god!” Harry blew out a breath, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders. He was going to need that massage and fuck it, they were definitely going to be naked too. Leo had birthday presents to keep him occupied after all. “Give it here, I'll put it in the fridge.” Louis' stomach fell out of his arse once the cake was safe and Harry turned around, expectant. “Cutlery...?” he asked slowly, hackles of suspicion raised.

Louis matched his careful tone, coming closer. “Babe, I love you - ”

“I know that,” he scoffed, “Cutlery. Please.”

“Sorry, I don't have it. But! We have forks and things here!” he rushed out when Harry's stare hardened. God, that massage was slipping away. Louis was hoping he'd be hard in a much more fun, sexy way when he was done with him. “I don't understand, H.”

“Plastic,” he said, gesturing wildly with his hands, “Plastic is safe and fun and it's just like when I was a kid, oh Louis!” he whined. Louis' eyes widened. He looked seconds away from stomping his foot. “Everyone's gonna be here any minute now and we don't have any fucking cutlery!”

“We do,” Louis tried to keep the giggles at bay and reached out to grab both of Harry's hands in his. “You're over-thinking this, darling. I'm sure the cutlery in our kitchen drawers will be fine and y'know, we could even use that fancy china your mother got us for our last anniversary.”

“Are you - ” he snapped then lowered his voice, aware of Leo in the other room, “Are you _fucking insane_? Eight year olds and china plates do not mix!”

“I think you need to have a sit down,”

Harry shrugged him off, “No, stop it, stop trying to manage me. Stop trying to wheedle your way out of this one. How the bloody hell did you forget anyway? I told you, multiple times, not to.”

Louis' face lit up with the memory. “Oh! You remember Jonathan?” He barrelled on, even without the confirmation, “Well, I was a bit tied up taking pictures with some fans who stopped me, they were lovely by the way, and then went to walk away and literally bumped into him! I was expecting some grunt, but it was nice for _me_ to recognise someone for a change and I was like “Jon!” and he was so surprised to see me 'cause, y'know, it's been two years or something and so, we got talking and he has a baby now too! I told him all about Leo obviously and that we have the greatest kid ever and he was so happy for us, babe. I have his new number and I told him we'd go to dinner sometime and I guess I was so blown away from bumping into him in London of all places that the cutlery slipped my mind. I made sure the cake was okay.” He smiled a little, trying to catch Harry's eye from where he was leaning against the sink and looking down at his bare feet. “That counts for something, right?”

There was a long silence, electronic sounds of Leo playing in the living room filling the gap, before Harry opened his mouth.

“So, let me get this straight. A chance meeting with some football geek made you forget all about your only son's birthday party? _Louis_ ,” he hissed disapprovingly, “that's no excuse. I was counting on you to do your bit and now I'll have a whole class full of children in our home, probably destroying the china my mother got us especially, all because you got distracted from buying paper plates and plastic forks by some boring old idiot you haven't seen or spoken to in the last two years!”

Louis frowned, “Oi, he's not boring,”

“Like I give a shit which Donny Rovers has-been was in the 1976 FA Cup Round Two with a team that wasn't even Donny!”

He was torn between being impressed that Harry had remembered that and feeling the creeping guilt that he didn't remember the plates or cutlery. “Haz.”

“Piss off, Lou,” he grunted, pushing away from the sink and striding out of the kitchen, “I need to fucking calm down and I can't do that here.”

He slammed the door, making Louis jump, because he never usually did that. He much preferred a good long pouty sulk. He was really hurt.

+++

“Oh no,” the daughter whispers, blinking hard as she tries to stay awake so her father would keep talking. Her little brother is already fast asleep beside her. “They're sad. I'm sad now too.”

Her squeezes her close, “Don't be sad, sweetpea, they're fine. It's just how grown ups get sometimes. They say things they don't mean (he left out the swearing a blue streak, the storming out and/or throwing things at each other's heads), then they say sorry. This was exactly like that.”

“And kiss make up?”

“Kiss and make up, yeah,” he nods. “It's just like when Grandpa and Granddad come over for Sunday dinner and Grandpa tells Granddad off for still not eating all his veggies, even though they're both very old and they've had the same disagreement a hundred times. They don't stay mad at each other, do they?” his daughter shakes her head, “They have a nice cuddle and forget about it. It shows that they care. Your Grandpa wants your Granddad around for a very long time because they love each other very much.”

+++

Fifteen minutes later, twenty children from Leo's class in school were running amok in Louis' home and he was trying to put a brave face on it. It was fairly easy because he loved kids in general, everyone knew that, and obviously he loved his son. He smiled and waved as Leo glanced up from where he was showing his best friends his main present, an old school Chopper bicycle that Harry had given a lick of bright red paint. At the thought of Harry, Louis' smile dimmed and he leaned against the doorway to the living room, the chatter and laughter all around him.

Whilst actual arguments happened very little, he always hated them with Harry because it didn't take long for Louis to miss him. He missed his dimples as he smiled and the warmth of his body standing right behind him, enveloping him until he felt safe and content. He missed sharing inside jokes, things that would go delightfully over Leo's head as he was still too young for a lot of them. He missed having his best friend in the middle of this party because he always wanted to have the best time with Harry. God, he was hopeless. And terribly in love.

He turned around to go find Harry because enough was enough and bumped into the man himself, holding the shepherd's pie he'd been slaving over all day. There was jelly and ice cream for dessert, of course. However, instead of apologising, he simply breathed his name. Harry was so beautiful, even with his hair in a messy bun, a sweaty forehead and a deep wrinkle between his eyebrows. 

“You're in my way.” he told Louis sullenly, but much calmer than their conversation in the kitchen.

Louis stepped aside after a little hesitation, desperate to make it up to Harry, and busied himself with declaring that the eating part of the party could start. Laid out on the table in their dining room was every party food staple, but Harry had insisted on making them something 'proper' too. With any luck, it might temper the amount of sugar they were bound to have afterwards. As they all tucked in and the few parent friends Louis and Harry had helped out, Louis stayed leaning by the door, just watching, and surprisingly Harry remained next to him. Louis' eyes landed on Leo, couldn't help but constantly look for him. Even seven years on, he could scarcely believe that the sad little toddler he once knew was now a bubbly, brilliant child utterly adored by his friends and family alike. He adored the man beside him too, watching from the corner of his eye as Harry twisted his turquoise ring around his finger. Louis needed to properly apologise and then they could move on. Who knows, maybe that massage wasn't entirely off the table if he did a good enough job at grovelling. Except when he went to speak, he heard Harry try to talk at the same time.

“Harry, listen - ”

“Darling, I'm - ”

They shared a smile, eyes flickering to and then away from each other, giggling quietly to themselves like nervous people on a first date. Louis decided to be a gentleman about it because it was the least he could do and what Harry deserved always. “You first, babe.”

Harry's posture softened, like his emotions had been holding him up and for another long pause he didn't say anything. He was staring straight ahead and Louis knew he was drinking in his own fill of Leo having what looked to be the time of his life. Plates (even the one or two that had accidentally smashed) and cutlery didn't seem to matter at all anymore. He touched his hand on the inside of Harry's elbow before Harry swung bodily around to face him, a wild, alive look blazing in his eyes.

“I want another baby.” Louis blinked at him, still stuck in apology mode, but Harry must've taken it for uncertainty because he shook his head at himself and pushed a wavy strand of hair off his forehead. “I know, I know, it's probably too late and I'm so, so happy that Leo's here, but I was thinking about all these kids coming today and I wanted things to be so perfect and they weren't and _it's fine_ ,” he said, just as Louis was about to take the opportunity to make amends, “it really is okay, I was just being a complete stress-head, but I wanted to get it perfect because I want _more_.” He gestured to the loud chaos in their dining room. “Look at them, Lou. There's so many of them and they're so excited, but they'll be going home after today and I don't want that.”

Louis' face screwed up comically. “What?”

Harry giggled, blushing. He slid his hand onto Louis' hip, facing him. His apron - adorned with yellow ducks in chef's hats that Leo had begged to buy for his dad three Christmases ago – was entirely messy but luckily dry – so Louis let him align their hips and he leaned into his ear, his other hand squeezing Louis' shoulder. “I want babies, Lou. As many as we can. It's not like we can't afford it.”

“Yeah, we're very lucky like that.” He smiled at one of the parents openly watching them have a moment, a little giddy that no one knew just how big A Moment this was turning out to be. He kissed Harry chastely on the mouth, mindful of embarrassing Leo with too much PDA. (It was a rule for the day. He knew his parents too well.) “Okay, let's have babies.”

“Really?” Harry chewed on his lip after his excited outburst. “But is it practical? I mean, I'd love for us to take care of a newborn this time. Is seven years too big a gap? Will it cause problems with Leo? Will he hate it? Will he resent the baby?”

“Whoa!” Louis breathed, smacking another sneaky kiss to Harry's lips to shut him up. “You're getting way too ahead of yourself there, babe. And have you forgotten that I was only a little younger than Leo when me mum had Lottie? Look how that turned out, baby after baby.”

“I mean, she did have twins. Twice.”

Louis laughed, “Not the point, Harold. I'm saying, Leo will be fine with this, you know he will. The adoption agency told us that he never had any siblings before he came into our lives. This could be really good for him too.”

Another smash and the clang of a fork hitting the hardwood floor pulled them out of their private discussion. Louis was still a little worried about how Harry would react and the kid who's elbow had pushed the plate off the table looked it too, but Harry chuckled.

“I'll get the dustpan and brush.”

\---

A difficult almost two years went by, so Leo was just a tad older than expected when Louis and Harry's surrogate, Liliana, finally went into labour. They couldn't leave Leo home alone whilst they went to the hospital, so Louis had to wake him up. He'd regretted it because he'd looked so peaceful, so young and vulnerable, and then grumpy when he blearily asked what all the fuss was about, but he'd soon perked up when they'd both told him the reason.

Powered by their excitement, it felt like they ran all the way there and they heard the anguished low moans and roaring screams of other women in the exactly the same situation as they were directed down the corridors and outside Liliana's room. Louis was about to follow Harry in when he realised how tight Leo had plastered himself to his side and he pulled him away to crouch down in front of him, the door swinging shut. The member of the midwifery team that had come to take them to Liliana stepped inside also to give them a moment.

“Hey little lad,” he said softly, calling him something he hadn't for years but it looked like he needed the comfort. “I think maybe it's best if you don't come in yet. I'm sure I can get one of the nice midwives to show you much more interesting things than this.”

Despite his eyes going big and round in trepidation, he still looked resolute. “But I wanna see the baby,”

“That's just it, Leo. He or she isn't here yet. That's what all the - ” he swallowed, nerves fizzing in his belly, as another scream wailed out from the room next door. And then a baby's cry a moment later. “ - What all the noise is about. Dad and me will probably be very tired once your new brother or sister arrives, so we need you to be big and strong and lively. Can you do that for us?” He felt the midwife from before pass where he was partially blocking the door with Leo and they shared a look of understanding. He straightened to his full height and turned Leo against him by his shoulders to face her.

“Hi,” she smiled, “I'm Elizabeth, but you can call me Beth. What's your name?”

Leo looked up at Louis and he nodded, nudging him. “I'm Leo, but you can call me...well, it's just Leo really. Daddy says it's like that man from that old film Titanic...”

Louis pressed his lips together, flushing, and tried to make eye contact with Beth. “I hope he's not gonna be too much trouble for you.”

She scoffed, tentatively reaching to squeeze Leo's shoulder as a series of shouts came from Liliana's room. “Please, I work with terrified, very loud women everyday. It'll be a welcome change.” She looked down at Leo again. “And your Daddy's right. You and your namesake both seem to be very charming.”

Leo grinned at Louis for her compliment before he turned thoughtful. “She's just like Nana Jay?” he asked.

Beth was predictably confused, but he nodded as memories of visiting his mother at work came back to him, including as Beth began to lead him the way they had come, mouthing over her shoulder for Louis to go and see Liliana because she needed him.

When he couldn't see Beth and his son anymore, he took her advice and pushed open the door.

Whilst he'd been aware of all his mother's pregnancies, he'd of course always been at the aftermath of the labours, when his new sisters and finally brother were actually born. However, this was a different kettle of fish, to be in the thick of it as it was happening. He locked eyes with Harry as Liliana had his big, capable hand crushed white in hers. He looked every part the supportive partner.

Since their conversation at Leo's eighth birthday party, they'd had many more before it was decided that they'd try surrogacy. Choosing who would do the honours out of the two of them was easy for Louis since that first talk and he encouraged Harry to be the one to donate. He didn't feel left out. How could he when he was about to have a second beautiful child, _a baby_ , depending on him and Harry.

Louis walked over to Liliana's other side, glancing at her raised, covered knees as her doctor inspected their baby's progress, then crossing his eyes at her when she caught him looking.

“Good – good of you to join us,” she joked, wincing. Then she noticed who was missing. “Where's Leo?”

“With one of the other midwives. Trust me, he's in safe hands. She'll probably take him to the nursery to see all the newborns already here. I always liked doing that myself.”

She was about to say something else when another contraction ripped through her, stunning her speechless except for another jumbled scream. Louis grabbed her free hand and grinned at Harry opposite him then let his gaze travel over her belly. In the last few weeks, she'd ballooned and he hadn't known how to say it tactfully so he'd kept his mouth shut, but she really was big and it intrigued him. She was a naturally slight woman when they first met, with long wavy dark hair pulled neatly into two plaits and sparkling eyes that reassured him that she was just as excited about going on this journey together as they were. He kissed her knuckles, immeasurably and forever grateful that Liliana was putting herself through this so that they could expand their little family. Truthfully, now that they had started, he couldn't wait to have a few more, whether it was because of her or some other special person.

It was another long while before she was given the go ahead to push with all her might. She was so close to the finish line and the three of them would get to meet the result of their shared dream. Louis had never heard anything like it and by the looks of Harry he hadn't either, as she huffed and panted, despite being so very exhausted. Regardless of the sweat and tears and grimacing, she turned into a superstar right in front of Louis' eyes and finally the team declared their baby as born, a sharp cry close behind to say hello. Louis breathed out in relief as Harry kissed Liliana's wet cheek, her head laying back on the pillow.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he mumbled into her skin, kissing her again.

Louis pushed her messy hair off her forehead and stroked his thumb there, “Yeah, you were fucking amazing,” he enthused without thinking. “Oops, sorry everyone!” But the midwives and obstetrician laughed and he shrugged, guessing they had probably heard all sorts of threats and shouts of joy in the throes of delivery. Liliana smiled tiredly then Louis saw something flicker across her face. “Lil? Lil, what is it? Are you alright?”

“I didn't - ” she gasped, trying to twist onto her side even though her knees where still raised. What was up with that anyway? Baby? Check. Gruesome placenta business? Check. “I didn't know how to tell you,”

“Tell me what? Lil, what is it? What's wrong?” he demanded urgently.

“Oh fuck,” he heard Harry interrupt distantly and when Louis managed to drag his eyes away from Liliana's writhing form, Harry was looking at her knees and the team was still huddled at the bottom of the bed. They spoke before Harry could explain.

“Okay, Liliana, here we go again. Baby Number Two. Get ready to push again.”

It had only been a couple of minutes since their baby was born and some part of Louis' brain knew what was happening now, but the rest of him refused to take it in. “Baby number two?” he asked faintly.

“Jesus Christ, Lou, yes!” she yelped, “Help!”

He kissed her temple quickly and grabbed her slack hand once more, half a mind on the team checking Baby Number One – he didn't even know if he had a son or daughter - and the other half readying himself for his second (technically third). _Twins_. How the fuck had Harry and Liliana managed that when he was the one with the possible genes for multiple births? The pure irony made him giggle, high on the adrenaline rush of babies, babies, babies.

“Well you said you wanted babies, darling,” he joked to Harry.

Baby Number Two gave them a lot less waiting around and mere minutes after their sibling, _she_ arrived, kicking and screaming from the get-go.

“Oh my god, we have a daughter,” Louis said, as a bundle held in a nurse's arms came towards him.

“And here's your son.” she declared.

“A son,” he echoed blindly, bowled over with emotion.

She went to hand him to Liliana but she looked doubly drained now and managed a half nod at Louis to take him. “He is yours after all.”

He shook his head and carefully nudged her arm with his elbow. “Hey, _ours_.” He looked up at Harry being handed another bundle of blankets, their very loud daughter. “All of ours.”

He was so caught up in staring at his eerily quiet son and trying to take in Harry holding their other child that only the stern beeping from a nearby machine quickly broke the spell. The obstetrician rushed to Liliana's bedside and that's when Louis saw that something wasn't right. The doctor peeled her eyelids back and shone a bright light into them, making Louis wince on her behalf, except it was like the life had been sucked out of her. His heart plummeted to his feet and Harry also rushed around, mindful of their two newborns but needing to be close to Louis as the team declared an emergency. 

It was something about the amount of blood Liliana was losing and neither of them understood much more than that, but catching a glimpse of the terrifyingly soaked sheets was enough of a clue as they quickly whisked her out of the room to head for the operating theatre. He and Harry stood left behind, their daughter still valiantly making full use of her new lungs, and didn't quite know what to do. Their emotions were a rollercoaster of deepest love and utmost fright because new babies weren't supposed to mean the loss of a dear friend. The midwife who came to give their son and daughter a thorough examination and thus take them away for a bit looked like she wanted to do anything but that, considering the circumstances that had unfolded, but Louis knew they had to and that it would only be temporary because they had so far been declared healthy.

Without their children and Beth agreeing to keep Leo none the wiser until they knew more themselves, Louis and Harry clung onto each other where they'd been moved into a silent, quiet room, desperately hoping that things weren't going to end this way. Lilana was strong. She would make it.

-

After what felt like millennia, the door opened and Louis bolted upright from where he'd been distractedly, lightly rubbing Harry's slumped shoulders. They'd had a cathartic little cry together, scared out of their wits, then resolved wholeheartedly to keep the faith.

The obstetrician from earlier had good news.

“Fuckin' hell,” Louis blurted out, hand slapped to his mouth and teary-eyed, as Harry hung his head between his knees and tapped a quick, relieved rhythm onto his thighs.

“I've got two pieces of good news actually.” she announced and was smiling a little, but very cautiously, “Whilst we were able to get the bleeding in Miss Costa's uterus under control, it enabled us to also make quite the discovery. Congratulations, you have a _third_ child.”

Louis stared at her, entirely motionless. He wanted to agree that of course they had a third child and his name was Leo and he was currently in the company of a member of her staff, but Harry standing up and squeezing Louis' limp hand in a vice-like grip made him blink.

“What – how? I mean. Pardon?”

“I understand this is a huge shock, especially after what you've been through today,” the doctor explained, “and I have to warn you that your second daughter has been taken to the neo-natal intensive care unit, but I can assure you both that she's going to have the best care.”

“What happened?” Harry asked. This was far too overwhelming. “What's wrong with her?”

“Mr - ” she hesitated, not quite remembering their names.

“Harry. Just call me Harry. Please, just tell us, is our daughter going to be okay?”

“Harry, I'm afraid I can't answer your question outright. The complications to Miss Costa's unforeseen condition means that your daughter was trying to be born when it was physically impossible for her to do so naturally. I performed an emergency Caesarean section and she was immediately given oxygen to encourage her to breathe. She's a very small baby, but please understand that we are doing everything in our power to make sure you have three healthy babies to take home.”

Louis thought back to how Liliana had wanted to tell them something. ”Did she know? Did Liliana know that she was having triplets?”

“Twins, yes. She told us that she wanted to keep it as a surprise if she could. But a third baby? No, it was a shock for all of us. The only explanation I can offer you is that due to your daughter's very small measurements and her older brother and sister's very boisterous deliveries, she went a little bit unnoticed. She's not the first baby to be born a complete surprise. Do you have any other questions for me?”

As long as Liliana and their babies were okay, nothing else mattered. They shook their heads and, with a promise to let them see all three of their babies as soon as every test was completed, the doctor left.

Liliana was out of surgery and they had a _third_ baby. 

Louis dropped Harry's hand, walked to the small blind-covered window then turned back around to face Harry, still in a daze. 

“I think the doctor just called our daughter the runt of the litter.”

Hearing his terrible attempt at a joke, Harry promptly burst into tears again, but this time they were happy tears. He threw himself into Louis' arms and catapulted him back to their X Factor days when Harry would fall into him every time they were put through another week on the show, weak with hope and a secret, building love. “Oh Lou,” he sniffled into his shoulder, “We've got three kids.”

Louis breathed in his familiar smell, baking from their house overlaid by his usual cool, fresh Tom Ford cologne and opened his eyes to see two more people entering the room. “Make that four, babe.”

“Shit, of course! Leo!” he whirled around, not realising that their little boy was already in the room and grinning up at his dads. “Oh! I mean, uh - ”

“Dad, don't get your knickers in a twist,” he replied, the kind of snark Louis couldn't help but be proud of. “I'm nearly ten,”

“That means you are still nine years old, young man, and as your dad I should know better than to say naughty words,”

“Daddy doesn't.” he shrugged.

“Yes, well,” he gave Louis a pointed look. “Daddy's a work in progress. Like the rest of us. C'mere, you. I've missed your cuddles.” He yanked Leo in by his neck and held him close, their son wriggling the longer it went on. “Oi, I've not finished yet.”

Leo rested his chin on the top of Harry's ribs to regard him, their arms still wrapped around each other. “Shouldn't I hug Daddy too?” he asked, far too sweetly to be serious, but Harry smiled fondly and ruffled Leo's hair. “Good point. Go on.”

To Louis, having Leo in his arms again felt like coming home and he breathed him in too. Harry and Leo were his world. Their much expanded world.

“Leopop,” he said gently, going back to the first nickname that Louis had used on him as a toddler that had made him smile, missing teeth and all. “Come sit down with Dad and me for a sec, come on.” Once settled with their son in the middle, he decided to come out with it. “So, Liliana had her baby.”

“ _Our_ baby,” Leo corrected proudly.

“Everyone's baby, yeah,” Louis laughed. 

“Can I see it? Please? Please, can I see it? What did she have?” he asked, beyond excited.

Louis swallowed because this was the tricky part. He may be nine but the last thing he wanted to do was scare him. He looked at Harry and it seemed he knew what to say.

“She had a boy...” In the pause for effect, Leo said a quiet “yes!” and punched the air. “ _And_ a girl.”

His adorable face creased in confusion. “Eh?”

“Leo!” Louis admonished then shook his head quick because Christ almighty he sounded like his mother.

“What? I mean, pardon, oh father of mine, do tell me the news?”

“Cheeky bugger,” Louis grumbled, pursing his lips to squash his smile. God, he loved him.

“You have a new brother and _two_ sisters.”

They braced themselves for the question. “But I thought you said Lil had a boy and a girl? That's two already.”

“It is,” Louis nodded, over his anxiety to tell him the truth. “And after your sister was born, Lil felt a bit poorly, so the doctor took her to the theatre for an operation.”

“No!” Leo gasped, biting his bottom lip hard but Louis could see the tears welling up. “Is she alright?”

He put his arm around his son and linked hands with Harry, kissing the crown of his head. “My darling Leopop, the doctor came to tell us just now that she's fine. Very poorly, but fine. They made her better and now she's got to rest.” He breathed in. Reliving it made the magnitude of it seem so huge, but Harry squeezed his hand and gave him courage. “Plus, we got some more happy news, didn't we? It wasn't a mistake. You _do_ have a brother and two sisters. When they were with Lil in theatre, the doctor found another baby inside Lil's tummy. She's very small and she's very poorly too, but she's ours.” He paused, letting everything sink in. “Are you happy, Leo?”

Straight away, Leo grinned and nodded hard. “I'm very happy, thank you, Daddy,” he turned to Harry, “And you, Dad.”

“Don't thank us, thank Lil,”

“Hey and me!” Harry piped up.

“Ugh, that's disgusting!” Leo whined, grumbling for his comment and the big smooch Louis delightedly planted on Harry's lips.

“I love you, babe.”

“Love you back.” Harry said, reluctant to break away.

With the hard talk finished and Leo handling it like the pro Louis knew he would be, they went to find out when they could visit Liliana and their babies. The rest of their _family_.

\---

_Seven years later..._

“Kids, come on!” Louis shouted up the stairs, waiting at the very bottom. “We're going to be late if we don't get a move on and you know how much your father hates it when we're late!”

Every single time Louis was left to wrangle his and Harry's brood to leave the house, they'd end up late from some drama or other, but Louis could never find it in himself to blame his children so he always got the blame instead. He used to when they were on tour anyway, late for everything. It's a bad habit that seemed to have transferred and part of him delighted in getting his own back a bit by telling Harry that his genes, his punctual genes, managed to go rogue and somehow give them the trait. It's all mumbo jumbo obviously and Harry was forever telling him to just plan better.

“Brennig Daniel!” he yelled again and knew it would get his quiet son's attention. “If I had your namesake here I'd throw you in it! Get your sisters and _come on_!”

“Daaaaaad,” a little boy whined, stopping at the top of the stairs with a frown on his face, like every inch the sullen Harry. “You can't have a lake in the house. And it's _Bren_.”

“Your Daddy better not catch you saying that,” Louis warned him, only half-joking. “He hunted high and low for a lovely, unusual name when you were born to mark the special occasion and it was - ”

“It was the best day of his life when he finally found one that you agreed on, yeah, I know, Dad,” he intoned monotonously because he'd heard it all before. 

Louis still remembers four days after their son was born and Harry elbowing him in the stomach in the middle of the night to wake up to the glow of a laptop shoved under his nose. “Brennig.”

“Wha'?” he squinted, struggling to pull himself from sleep. “What're you talkin' about, H?”

“What do you think of naming our son, Brennig?”

“I dunno. What language is that and, more importantly, what the fuck does it mean exactly?”

Harry turned his gaze back to his laptop and read out loud. “Brennig – of Welsh origin, meaning lake. That's sort of beautiful, don't you think? I mean, he's such a quiet, serene baby and his eyes are so green,”

“Like a seaweed filled lake...?” Louis quipped, unsure.

“Lou, I'm being serious. What do you really think? Do you like it?”

Harry's face was so alive. He looked so utterly stunning to Louis, even through bleary eyes and the washed out light of a screen. He nodded. He could learn to love it, if that's how happy Harry looked when he was convinced he'd found the perfect name for their second son.

Fast forward seven years and he couldn't imagine how anything could fit Bren more.

“Please, Bren,” he sighed heavily, coming out from his reverie, “Just fetch your sisters.”

Moments of nothing went by once Bren had disappeared into the bedroom that the girls' shared. They had plenty of rooms for them to have one each, but his oldest daughter seemed to still be in the grip of fiercely protecting her sister any chance she got. It was so sweet, Louis thought as he climbed the stairs to see what was taking them so long.

Sweet be damned, he found his two daughters locked in a tug-of-war and Bren standing in front of them, watching the back and forth like a tennis match and clearly having no clue what to do. Louis understood how he felt initially, but luckily he was a self-titled expert in strong-minded women.

“Hey, hey!” he shouted over the din of their high shrieks, their fists clutched onto the skirt of a tulle masterpiece of a princess dress that his oldest daughter was already wearing. “What's all this noise for?”

“Tully is wearing the princess dress, but I wanna wear it, Dad!” his youngest pouted, giving the dress another ineffectual, stubborn tug.

“No! I'm wearing it! It's mine, Polly!”

Another one of Harry's chosen names. 

“Oh god, she's so small,” he whimpered, hand on the glass to the room of incubators and sick babies, seven years ago. “Like a Polly Pocket. Remember those?”

Louis desperately wanted to laugh at the time, but knew it was inappropriate with Harry so all over the place. He rested his head on Harry's shoulder, listening to him murmur, “our own little Polly” and not really thinking it'd stick.

It stuck.

She may still be small for her age, but Polly was definitely mighty, glaring at her sister and flaring her nostrils. Considering her tough start in life, or maybe because of it, she was a tiny little firecracker for sure. 

To resolve the situation, Louis shuffled in between them to break Polly's determined hold and got on his knees. “Polly Marie,” he said, staring hard at one daughter then fixing his gaze on the other, “Tulip Catherine. I've already used your brother's full name this evening and now I've said yours. How often does that happen, hm? Come on, let's be nice about this. Polly, you can't wear the princess dress,” she gasped and opened her mouth to protest no doubt passionately, but Louis shook his head and regarded his second daughter, Bren still watching on quietly. “Tully, you can't wear it either. If your sister wants to wear it, do you really think it's fair that you get to? How will that make Polly feel?”

Tulip scowled. “Angry.”

Louis caught his giggle in the back of his throat. “Sad, Tully. She'll be _sad_. Now, you have loads of pretty dresses in your wardrobes. I'm sure you can find something to make Leo proud of you both.”

At the mention of their big brother, the tension in the room melted away. Louis knew it was a cheap shot, but they really did adore Leo and this was Leo's night...which they were going to be late to, if Louis didn't get them dressed and out the door.

With Bren's help, Polly grumbled something about “not wanting to wear a dress anyway” and eventually chose leggings and a cute sparkly t-shirt, whilst Tulip did wear a less full on occasion dress in a simple baby blue and a flower in her hair.

“Tulip for my Tulip,” Louis cooed, clipping it into her dark hair, even if it wasn't an actual tulip at all. It made his daughter beam and that was more than enough for him.

Harry was waiting outside their local comprehensive school, dressed in a smart suit and his hands stuffed into his pockets when Louis finally pulled up to the curb in their people carrier and poked his head out of the window.

“Y'alright sexy, fancy a ride?” he exclaimed, deliberately thickening his accent just to watch the surprise on Harry's face as he twirled around. Once he saw it was Louis and his band of merry children, his shoulders relaxed and the polite public mask slipped to reveal his bright smile and craters for dimples.

Not caring about school policy and just needing to get his restless kids out of the car - “Polly, stop kicking my seat, please. Dad's trying to drive. We'll get there when we get there,” halfway through the journey – Louis parked the car where Harry stood and they all tumbled onto the pavement. He went for a hug from his man, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck like always, even though he had to go the slightest on tiptoes. Harry's embrace around his waist lifted him anyway and Louis nuzzled his nose behind his ever-present long curls.

“Hi, baby.” he murmured, deep and toe-curlingly welcome after Louis had spent the last two hours trying to get himself and his triplets ready.

Harry had gone ahead in one of his cars (a keen early interest that still hadn't wavered) to calm Leo down if needed. It was probably best that they'd decided it would be him because, even after all these years, Louis could spend an age fixing his hair. That and he wasn't sure he was emotionally ready for tonight. “Hello gorgeous,” he whispered back, “I forgot to tell you earlier how good you look.”

They pulled away from their hug, Harry's hands planted on Louis' shoulders to look him over. “Well, you look hot. Scrub up very nicely indeed.”

Louis blushed at the intense stare Harry pinned on him and broke their eye contact to look at his chest. There were two buttons on his light grey, silky shirt undone. Louis made it three and quirked an eyebrow at him mischievously. “Ditto.”

“Come on,” Harry smiled, pulling him into his side and gathering his children in front of them, “Leo and Jaimie are inside and they can't wait to see how lovely you all look.” They started to walk into the school. “Good job,” he whispered into Louis' ear, kissing his temple, “We look every inch the normal, showbiz family right now.”

“Like the Beckhams?”

His eyes glittered. “Better.”

Louis took a deep breath in, so content and so excited to see his Leo and all his talent. As an end of year project, Leo's A Level Art class had put together an exhibition of their highest marked and also personally favoured pieces to display in the school assembly hall and had invited their families to share in their big achievements for the night. It seemed that writing on the walls as a toddler had finally paid off.

As they entered the hall, Louis found Leo easily, standing with Jaimie, the newest person to come into their lives. At six months pregnant, Jaimie was Harry and Louis' second surrogate and probable last. Although Leo was planning on going off to university soon, triplets and an impending newborn were quite enough to be getting on with. 

“Hi Leopop,” Louis greeted him first.

“Dad,” he mumbled into his shoulder, “Stop calling me that,”

He gave his son an almighty tight squeeze. “Never.”

Leo hugged Harry hello before all his siblings clamoured for his attention and he started to lead them and Jaimie around the exhibition, pointing out which paintings and drawings were his. His parents followed aimlessly at a more leisurely pace, stepping around sculptures and dodging performance art that surprised them out of their skins.

“I never knew art could be so entertaining,” Louis said to Harry, with some laughter left over from watching Harry nearly collide with a student in a full bodysuit decorated in lots of bright colours, blending them into the background of their painting of the same.

“But our boy's still the best one here, right?”

“It's our duty as parents to never let anyone forget it.” Louis came to a stop at another small white card that was pinned next to every painting, drawing and sculpture. “Oh, here's another one!”

It read:

 **Leo Tomlinson-Styles** , Year 12

_A Picture of Love_

His mouth dropped open when he saw what was behind the glass. It was a drawing done entirely in pencil with simple shading instead of any colour. He recognised Harry instantly, his hair piled up in his messy home bun, his tiny shorts and the dimples carved into his face. He was sat at the kitchen table and Tulip, Polly and Brennig were there too, potatoes and paints spread out all over. They'd started doing it on weekends when Leo was small, making fun little prints using the potatoes as their stampers, and never really stopped, an accidental Sunday tradition for the summer months.

“Look, baby,” Harry directed softly, his finger coming into Louis' view.

Louis followed where he was pointing and felt his vision start to blur. Standing next to the kettle in the picture was him, tongue out and eyes crossed ridiculously, making his children laugh and Harry shine bright like the sun. He was dressed casually too, the whole picture not pretentious in the slightest. A happy family. Just as his gaze was roaming the drawing some more and a crease was forming between his eyebrows, he heard a real voice behind him.

“Do you like it, Dad?” It was rare for Leo to call him Daddy anymore. Louis didn't miss it as much as much as he thought. He'd be Daddy again soon enough.

“Leo,” he croaked, voice raspy with unshed tears. “It's beautiful. But I can't see you. Why aren't you in the picture?”

He put his hand on his father's shoulder and leaned between him and his other dad, finger outstretched. He landed on a shadow in the bottom left corner, a silhouette of a tall boy in the doorway to the kitchen, mouth open, hopefully in a smile. “I don't really need to be in the picture though. My focus was you and Dad and the triplets. This is what I see, everyday. I'm here,” he said and Louis felt him press his palm to Louis' chest, right over his heart, “and you're in mine. You're my family.”

“Oh fuck, I'm gonna cry,” Louis admitted suddenly in response, throwing his arms around Leo's neck as he felt his face twist into the telltale sign.

“You're so talented and I'm so proud that you're my son.” he heard Harry say and Louis felt his front connected softly with his back as Leo brought him in to their huddle.

“Thanks, Dads.” he grinned, coming out of the embrace after Louis had managed to discreetly and quickly wipe his eyes. That had to be a new record. He'd only been here twelve minutes.

He tried to lighten the mood. “Last chance to persuade you to go back to calling me Daddy...?”

“Nah, it's alright.” Leo shrugged. “There's rumours that Abby, a girl in my English class, has a boyfriend who's older than her and Toby, right, he swears blind that he overheard her behind the maths portakabin, talking to him as he sneaked on site and calling him Daddy. Kinda ruined it for me, if I'm honest.”

He curled his lip up in disdain and shuddered as Louis choked on his own spit, Harry patting him on the back roughly and an amused smirk playing on his lips. “I'm glad we never had that particular kink, honey,” he cooed deliberately as Louis went red in the face from coughing. His eyes flashed mischievously. “Although there's still time.”

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” chanted the voices belonging unmistakably to their two daughters, running towards the three of them with Jaimie catching up at a more sedate pace and Bren nowhere to be seen.

Harry was still giggling when he crouched down and they barrelled into his chest, Tulip getting there first, much to her sister's disappointment. “Hey my little pumpkins, are you enjoying yourselves? Have you been good for Jaimie? Because you know you have to set a good example for when Peanut comes along.”

“Yes, Daddy,” they answered automatically, “We've been very good and walked nicely around the hall to look at the pretty pictures,”

“That one over there is even better than Leo's!” Polly added, pointing wildly across the room.

Harry raised an eyebrow at Leo as he slapped a palm to his face at his little sister's brazen antics. At least she was growing up to be honest. They just had to work a bit harder on her loyalty and tact. He looked at Polly again. “I'm sure it's excellent, darling. Now, if you've both been so good – where's your other brother?”

“Over there,” Tulip replied.

Louis, Harry, Leo and Jaimie all looked to where Bren was stood in the far corner, arms by his side and clearly terrified as a performance art student – notably the same one Harry had nearly knocked onto their arse – moved around him. Louis felt helplessly endeared.

“I'll go rescue him and then we can find our seats, yeah?” he offered, already moving to save his shy, awkward son. 

The evening ended with a small presentation by the headmaster and the art teachers, giving their students a certificate to commemorate the hard work they had all put into creating the exhibition. Louis felt like Leo's section of the audience cheered louder than anyone else in the room, including quiet Bren. 

But maybe he was a bit biased.

\---

In almost a repeat of the night Harry found Brennig's name, he sat with his laptop in bed again and scrolled through the pages upon pages of baby names, except this time Louis was awake, his head rested on Harry's chest and his arm across his stomach.

“What about Kian?”

After a second to consider, Louis spoke. “Too Irish.”

“Don't let Niall hear you say that,” he replied and Louis could feel an impression coming on, “'Nothin' fuckin' wrong with Irish names ya bastard!',”

“Uncanny. It's like he's here in the room.” he said, deadpan and sarcastic, even if Harry was pretty good at it by now.

“I hope not.” he grinned, tilting Louis' face up with a finger underneath his chin to capture his mouth in a slow kiss. After it ended naturally, he looked him dead in the eyes and said, “How do you feel about the name Matthew then?”

Louis groaned and rubbed a hand down Harry's torso, dangerously close to slipping beneath the sheets. “Can't we have a night off from thinking about babies? It's ages before Jaimie's due. How about we concentrate on the practising instead?”

He planted a gentle kiss next to Harry's left nipple then moved smoothly on top of him to reach the other, Harry's laptop sliding off his thighs and onto the side of their thankfully large bed. Harry arched towards Louis' clever mouth with a pleased hum, but they always liked to keep up the banter until they were in too deep to joke, like verbal foreplay, which lead him to say, “Y'know neither of us can get pregnant, right? All the 'practising' in the world won't change that,”

“All the better for it, if you ask me,” Louis muttered, “But we can still make the most of our children being fast asleep in their own rooms in our very big house and no newborns in the nursery.”

“Good chat, good chat,” Harry whispered against his lips as they met for a hungry kiss.

“No more banter. And no more baby names.” Louis reminded him firmly, as his roaming hand disappeared from view and he sucked at Harry's neck.

-

“For the record,” Louis panted some time later, stretching his leg in the air to ward off the faint threat of cramp, “Matthew's okay. Just a bit...ordinary.”

Harry tickled his sweaty ribs, “I thought you said no more baby names, you hypocrite!”

He squirmed away with a yelp then rolled his eyes. “During, H. I meant no baby names during the sex. Now we've had it and I'm still awake, so hit me,”

“Yeah, but for how long,” Harry mumbled under his breath, as he retrieved his laptop. He let out a pained groan as Louis smacked him in the balls.

“Fuck you!” he laughed nonetheless. They settled back into their earlier positions, except more snuggled up, enjoying the post-coital feeling of bliss and the brush of their naked skin. “Anyway, if we were to choose Matthew he'd have to have another name before or after to, like, jolly him up,”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “This coming from the man who agreed to name our son Brennig just so I'd shut up – yes, I know you did so don't try to deny it – and almost laughed in my face when I said our poorly daughter reminded me of a Polly Pocket. I thought you'd approve of something a little more...traditional.”

“I didn't laugh in your face!” Louis protested and hoped he could blame his blush on the really decent, satisfying sex they'd just had instead of being caught out and Harry knowing the truth all along.

“Okay, maybe not directly, but you wanted to,”

“Look, I'm sorry, I just - ”

“Although!” he interrupted, clearly on a roll, jabbing his finger into Louis' shoulder where the tattoo of his stag lay, “Although you really are a hypocrite because I'm not the only one that likes the unusual, Mr naming our daughter after an Asian wild flower. What's so standard about that?”

“Oi, careful, my sister's named after a flower too,”

“Fine, let's call a truce. Put Matthew in the 'Yes' boys names pile, with the promise that we'll only use it if we can find something else to 'jolly him up'.”

They fell silent as Harry scrolled for a few more minutes and Louis read along with him until he reached out and exclaimed, “Wait, wait, stop! Go back, what was that?”

He did as he was instructed and Louis leaned forward, taking in the stark letters. “That's the one.”

“Lou, baby, that's a city in America,”

“I know, but that didn't stop Victoria Beckham naming her firstborn Brooklyn, did it?”

“Denver,” Harry said slowly, testing it out, “You want to name our next child Denver? Den. Bren. No, we can't have Bren and Den!” 

“So we nickname him Denny, like Tully,” Louis shrugged, but he really had the bit between his teeth and he wasn't going to give this up without a fight and a damn good reason.

“That's too many Y's,” Harry complained, “Tully, Polly, Denny, ugh!”

Louis folded his arms in a sulk and for a moment only a solitary hoot of an owl could be heard from outside before he realised the solution to make Harry see that it could still work. “So change it around.”

“Excuse me?”

Louis sat up, suddenly more excited, and slapped Harry on the bicep. “Put our two choices together, but change them around! Matthew Denver. See? Ooh! He sounds like a classy motherfucker and he's not even born yet. We could just call him Matthew, but Denver adds the jazz that all his siblings already have. Oh H, it's perfect, yeah?”

Harry let him stew before he couldn't keep the smile off his face any longer. “It is pretty perfect. Okay, Matthew Denver it is. We'd better get cracking with the girls' names though, otherwise Polly will never forgive us. She's absolutely convinced that Jaimie's going to have a girl.”

\---

On September 16th of that year, at approximately 5.45pm, Jaimie gave birth to Louis and Harry's fifth child.

Matthew Denver was welcomed into their excitable, noisy family with open arms. Even by little Polly.

+++

Leo pauses and looks down at his daughter. She'd been quiet for a while and now she's fast asleep. He'd almost told his children all the good bits anyway and is secretly glad to have left out his teenage years - apart from his first big achievement (the first step to his career as an illustrator for children's books) - and his raucous twenties. His kids never needed to know the details about that, just like his parents hadn't told him much about theirs. Some things were meant to be glorious mysteries forever, much like fairytales and other stories.

Leo moves around the bed to gently pull his son into his arms, his small body like dead weight, and manages to put him in his own bed with his favourite teddy bear, Blue. He tucks his daughter in too and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Night night, sweetpea.” he whispers, “ Tomorrow we'll go and see Grandpa and Granddad and all your Aunties and Uncles will be there. We're going to meet Auntie Polly's new girlfriend. She thinks she could be The One. Exciting, eh? Mummy and Daddy loves you. Sweet dreams.”

He can't resist kissing her one more time then slowly backs out of her bedroom, the little rainbow lamp switched on for his younger son in his. He creeps downstairs to find his wife curled up on the sofa, watching the soaps. He sits down as he breathes out and slips his arms over her shoulders, her body snuggling in to him.

“Let me guess,” she says, her smile curving against his jumper, “They wanted the story about Granddad and Grandpa again.”

It's not even a question anymore because it happens at least once a month and his children can never get enough of it. It makes Leo smile too. It's his life and now he gets to tell his own kids all about it and he hopes, one day, that his memories live on.

His family is worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, I kinda did kid!fic in reverse lol.
> 
> Thanks for reading, lovelies x
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](http://www.theprincessed.tumblr.com). :)


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